Luyện nghe bài hát Color My World Mine

I once met a man who trained himself not to
What he seems to seen was a glimpse of everything
He's been painting pictures on canvas since age
And he only exists in the mind of a higher being
And I his work; mostly scenic landscapes
But each one is focused on an easel the man paints himself painting himself
And all that's in his visual
He said this was the only way he could himself real
Ever he could remember, he had one nightmare reoccur
But until about ten years ago, it matter
It consisted of loud, distorted echoing off the concrete
He ran on top of it in attempt to reach a
Now sometimes, he'd get so but never touch his destination
Which caused him much frustration 'cause he know what it meant
And by the end of the dream, he saw the scene a bird's eye
Only to his dead body laying on the cement

It was only to his dead body laying on the cement
At first it freaked him out, but after a he grew content
So he thought, "It's a dream," and kept living his life
Writing his soul on the canvas 'cause it sheds his light
And it on and on like space and time, ain't nothing odd
It's not that he believe, he just didn't approve of God
His experience was one I couldn't
'Till I being detective and listened to him as a friend
He

He once saw a painting told his whole life story
It was that he knew he was the art of divinity
He saw a painting that told his whole life story
A brush stroke of the gods made him one note in their
He once saw a that told his whole life story
He spoke for and not the rest of humanity
He saw a painting that told his whole life story
And I realize I'm not real
God imagined me

like I said
About ten ago, the event that changed his whole reality
Took on his monthly trip to the local art gallery
It was there where he studied his
And where he nearly carried his sanity to a hole and buried it forever
It was a very day
The was almost empty
And he got chills his spine just being present in the scene
On the wall, was a picture that looked familiar
And he got close, his heart stopped
cause he saw it was a painting of his
It was a painting of his
His on a runway
By a ladder to an airplane its propellers spinning
Which accounted for the loud
The match up was
And that was the day he stopped in existing
He his creator
I mean, can't explain
What have went on in his brain while he stared into a frame
Of a work of art which he created and was at the time
The mind handle that much, it's just insane
It's like reading a book where words describe your thoughts
And in quotations, it reads whatever you say when you
You think it can't
But it did
I guess there's surprisingly cracks in each life's sidewalk
He stumbled an answer when he never had a question
And decided to stop dreaming to maintain his mental
Now he hardly talks to
Just in his basement
Writing infinity, by himself
Painting
This is a universe
Is it all a blueprint?
In the real universe, is my useless?
Are we really a higher intelligence made up?
A of imagination colored by a cosmic paintbrush?
Maybe all of our art creates the fate of other
Then character in ever novel thinks it's alive and were just gods
blindly
Just a
I don't know what it
But that's the story of the man who trained not to dream

He once saw a paining that told his life story
He the paradox of the word "existing"
He once saw a painting that told his life story
He his world theirs, and concluded he wasn't living
He once saw a painting that his whole life story
The hidden that all that is is art
And I close my eyes, I see eternity as a story
A God imagined the God imagined me
And I am God
And so on